


so I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do

by ThunderstormsandMemories



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: F/F, and mentions of death and almost death, and unhappiness and inability to handle emotions, but hey there are queer space ladies, it's mostly violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderstormsandMemories/pseuds/ThunderstormsandMemories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing gentle about the way she pressed their lips together, and maybe there should’ve been, considering how badly Gamora had been wounded.<br/>Takes place both pre- and post-film.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do

Their first kiss tasted of blood and of tears they weren’t aware of shedding. But nothing had prepared Nebula for seeing Gamora’s body in the condition it was in, bruised, twisted, bleeding, broken. Gamora was strong, Gamora always won. Nebula had faced too much pain and humiliation to believe she was invincible, but still she thought nothing could touch Gamora. And seeing her there, so weak, so helpless, filled Nebula with anger, anger at those who had done this, for hurting Gamora, for being almost better than her (only she was allowed to be almost better than her), anger at Gamora, for letting herself be so nearly defeated (how dare she risk dying and leaving her alone), anger at herself, for feeling, in the deepest reaches of her frozen heart, not anger but relief, stupid pointless relief and sympathy and fear and a thousand other strands of emotion intertwining into one that she had, up until this moment, managed to keep hidden and almost forgotten: love.

She knelt down beside her, stroking Gamora’s long beautiful hair, now tangled and caked with blood, and Gamora tried to raise her head so that her eyes, one of them swollen shut, with teardrops beading on the lashes, were even with Nebula’s. And suddenly Nebula couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand knowing how close they came to losing each other, couldn’t stand what little distance there was between them.

There was nothing gentle about the way she pressed their lips together, and maybe there should’ve been, considering how badly Gamora had been wounded, but her gasp seemed to be more from surprise than from pain and there was nothing gentle or inhibited about the way she wrapped her arms around Nebula’s back and lifted herself upright to lean into the kiss.

Nebula thought about that moment often, about never being more aware of the presence of another living being in quite the same way, about feeling Gamora’s every heartbeat, tasting her every breathe, and sometimes she still put a finger to her lips, to see if they had retained the heat. But she couldn’t, they couldn’t, and why didn’t Gamora see that? Why was Nebula haunted by the hurt look in her eyes when she pretended not to notice the way she was flirting with her, tossing her hair so it brushed against her, her smile secret and sly and inviting? They couldn’t. It was a distraction. And Nebula couldn’t afford distractions.

(If she were being honest with herself she'd have to admit that she was afraid. Of the uncertainty of it all, of the intensity, of allowing herself to feel. But she hid that thought behind walls of ambition and told herself that Gamora was weak, and she was weak for ever thinking otherwise.)

Thanos noticed, though Nebula prayed he would never know the cause. But he noticed that they weren’t working together the way they used to, when they fought as if it were a dance, when they abandoned themselves to instinct and could predict each other’s movements as if they were their own. So he sent them away, to Ronan, and Nebula’s resolve was weakening. Sometimes, when she hovered between sleeping and waking, she caught herself imagining what it would be like to kiss Gamora again, to give in to emotion, to find out who she could be without the walls she had built. She would have given in, gone back to Gamora and begged forgiveness, if Gamora had not been sent away on a mission and betrayed them and never come back except to aid the enemy.

Their last kiss tastes of blood and of tears they aren’t aware of shedding. They’re fighting, exchanging blows in a whirlwind of fury, fueled by their feelings of betrayal. There are no words, not this time, not even Gamora is pleading for peace now. Nebula can’t remember a fight being this vicious, not with any of her victims, not even with Gamora herself on Ronan’s ship, the last time they came face to face. Nebula fell and ran, and Gamora followed, followed her here, to this desolate waste of a moon where surely one of them will die.

Gamora slips past her defenses and cradles Nebula’s face in her hands. She’s breathing heavily, harsh, ragged panting, and there’s a droplet of blood running down her forehead that Nebula has the irrational desire to wipe away. Her fingertips are hot against Nebula’s temples and she thinks this is the end, that she will die staring into Gamora’s eyes as Gamora snaps her neck.

There was nothing gentle about the way their lips crash together, or the way Gamora’s fingernails are now digging into Nebula’s shoulder blades, and there’s nothing else for Nebula to do but kiss her back, because she feels Gamora’s body move against hers and she wants to forget about everything but the heat and the hunger, and Gamora’s teeth pull at her lip and her hand is knotted in Gamora’s hair and her other hand tightens around the hilt of her knife.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Nicotine by Panic! at the Disco  
> Also on posted at dreaming-of-fictional-worlds.tumblr.com


End file.
